I was going write this two days ago but then life happened and stuff so I never wrote it. I’m sure you’re all (the tens of you) surprised to learn that I do indeed have responsibilities. Like taking care of people who need care-taking. And going to appointments. And writing letters and making phone calls and making appointments. NO, REALLY! It’s true! I do stuff besides blog! (I KNOW!).

Monday I suddenly had a twelve-year-old. I know, I could have looked at the calendar. I mean, I have google and this fancy smart phone. You’d think I’d look at it once in a while. I didn’t REALLY forget his birthday. I mean, this is a kid who announces his birthday is going to happen three months ahead. We never make a big to-do over birthdays in my house (and none of us actually like cake) but he needed me to know he was going to be twelve. And for those of you not good at math, twelve is ONE YEAR before thirteen. And thirteen is important because? (No, not because he’ll be a teenager.) Thirteen means he’s going to go through a growth spurt. He learned that in Health! And growth spurts are really, really important to a kid who is in the 4th percentile for height and weight for his age.

No, he’s not short. He’s petite. Mommy was the same way and then grew 3.5 inches after high school ( I KNOW). The Guy I Live With isn’t exactly tall, either (a mere 2 inches taller than me).

Bugaboo is also petite. Though for weight he’s 50 percent. Height is the same as his brother. They won’t be enormous as adults. Thanks to the wonders of science and the fact that they both have medical conditions that need to be monitored regularly, we did genetic testing (to see what sort of disorders could be related) and found out that their adult size is gestimated to be between 5 feet 5 inches and 5 feet 6 inches. In other words, my kids are built PERFECTLY for diving and gymnastics, which they take part in. So WINNING!

Bug Boy has turned into this amazing kid. He has a super sense of humor and even though we hit speed bumps now and then, school is SUPER DEE DUPER. We’re fortunate enough to live in a good school system (CHA -CHING! That was the sound of money leaving our bank account to pay taxes) and they have a good set up for kids like mine. Middle School has actually been going well so far. We love Bug Boy’s teachers, he loves school (always has!) and he has had fabulous grades. He even made it to the honor roll, despite my warnings not to put tons of pressure on himself. I’m one of those lame parents that told their kid that the grades aren’t important as long as he is working to the best of his ability. Naturally, he took this to mean, “Anything under an A- is NOT ACCEPTABLE. So don’t do that, mmkay?” And an 85? That’s a B. He was crying for days when that happened.

For realz, though. This is a kid who spoke late. Who at one time spent 15 hours a day pushing around a plastic lawnmower (and pushing and pushing). Who kicked kids for wearing the “wrong color.” Who clung to me screaming when I dropped him off at school and who would, if he saw me there during school hours, run to me crying and begging me to take him home (yet, he loved school. Honestly!). He had frequent tantrums in and out of school. He had massive anxiety and OCD flare-ups. Who couldn’t take the bus for two years because it was too overwhelming. Who has spent the past nine years in speech therapy to help with conversational skills, reading comprehension, inferences and expressions. My kid.

And when he’s running around the house with a nerf sword down the back of his shirt, spouting off hurricane facts, telling me about the Titanic and making up his own words to songs? I couldn’t be prouder of hour far he has come.

I am pretty sure I don’t have a picture of this kid where he isn’t making some sort of goofy face.